


the heartbeat of a heartbreak

by citykidcrimes



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Character Revival, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, Stranger Things Spoilers, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19970794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citykidcrimes/pseuds/citykidcrimes
Summary: After the Starcourt Incident, Billy is forced out of rehab, forced to watch Max 24/7, and forced to be the perfect son. He can do that. He can pretend. He's not stupid, he knows what he did, what he owes. But everything he's ever known is breaking down, wearing on him, dragging him back into that pit, that dark cave of Not Ok.He knows what he wants. He knows exactly why he can't have it. The solution to his problems, the cause of his lamenting, the only one that really matters. The golden boy. The king. The problem and the solution, the destructor and the savior, the sickness and the cure.All wrapped up into one neat little bundle and placed conveniently inside the Family Video store.





	the heartbeat of a heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> "and i love you so much i'm gonna let you kill me" - florence and the machine.

  
**Billy**

I’ve wanted to die four times in my life.

Not the casual poor me bullshit. Not the pathetic, desperate, Mommy and Daddy won't buy me a car phone sadness. Four times in my life, I have wanted to die.

The first time I wanted to die was the first time my father laid hands on me. My mom had left for the last time. I was seven years old, sobbing on the floor, desperately yelling at the operator to connect my calls to her. She was already long gone. He was angry, drunk, and needed a new punching bag. That night, I laid in bed, bruises forming, and begged God to make it stop.

The second time was years later. Fifteen now, I could take a punch well and dole one out even better. I had gotten smarter. Better at hiding myself from him and my bruises from everyone else. But better wasn’t enough. Better didn’t keep my secrets. I was home alone that night, he was supposed to be gone all weekend. I thought it would be safe.

I let my guard down.

I let down the facade. I let myself truly live, if only for a night. That night was passionate, sincere, and safe. The next morning was kicked down doors, beer breath, and a screaming voice in my face. What will people say? What will people say when they hear I raised a faggot? Each question was brought down with a swift strike, over and over again until my face was covered in enough blood to spit back in his face. The next morning, it was announced we were moving to Indiana. I packed my bags and hoped for a car crash.

The third time was not just a time I wanted to die. It’s the time I should have died. The time I did die, technically at least. My heart stopped by the monster I created. The EMTs who rushed to the scene afterward worked all night to save me. Blood transfusions, skin grafts, hundreds of IV tubes stuck up and down my arms, only to put me in a coma for weeks. I woke up alone in a hospital bed, wishing I could go back into the dark.

And the fourth time. The fourth time was nothing like the others. It didn’t come down fast or hard, didn’t leave me with blood and bruises. No, this time it snuck up on me, a subtle heat working its way through my blood, through my bones and settling in my brain until it was undeniably true. The fourth time I wanted to die was the day I fell in love with the boy I could never have.

  
**Steve**

After the Starcourt incident, everything in Hawkins changed. As the mall came crumbling down, the very basis of our town crumbled with it. Will and El left, along with Robin, Carol, Tommy, Jonathan, and every other graduated senior. We were down a Mayor, a newspaper CEO, and a police chief.

  
Parents stopped being so nonchalant with their kids. Doors were locked, curfews were instituted. The party stopped hanging around Mike’s so much, finding new spots with less dark roads to bike down. The whole town was moving, shifting. It seemed like everyone and everything in Hawkins was changing. But not me.

I’m still kicking it at the video shop, with no college offers, no girlfriend, and about five kids.

“STEVE!” The bell above the door rings out again and again as Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, and Erika bang through the door. “What is UP!” His voice cracks at the end. Oh, to be a 14-year-old boy. He and Erica make a beeline to the restricted section.

“Hey dweebs, since when were you eighteen?” They’re too busy pulling movies off of the shelf to pay any attention. Lucas and Max seek out Keith, looking to berate him about the reopening of the Arcade, and Mike fiddles with his radio. All is quiet on the home front for a second, but then the bell rings again, and Billy Hargrove ducks through the door.

Oh shit. This is new.

My eyes are on Billy, but in my peripheral, I see Mike tense. Billy gives me a standard once over from across the shop, then closes his eyes and kicks back on the brick wall. I haven’t seen him since the accident. Max mentioned a few days ago that he had woken up, but it was quickly dismissed. Talking about him was taboo with these kids. Not that I blame them. I was the first of many to get my ass handed to me by Billy Hargrove, and the last time they saw him, he was trying to kill them all.

I use his closed eyes as an advantage to scope him out. He brought in the cool November air when he entered, and even from across the store I catch a whiff of his signature scent, cologne, sweat, and cigarettes. It takes me a second to register it, but something about him is off. He’s still Billy, muscles, mullet, and denim on denim, but he’s different. For one thing, his shirt is buttoned. In the year and a half he's been at Hawkins, I’ve never not been faced with the sight of his weirdly hairless and buff chest.

But that's not it. He’s always been a loaded gun, ready to go off. But before it seemed scary, like he was ready to jump at you at any moment. Now he looked scared. Like he hadn’t let down his defenses since the Fourth of July.

Anyways, new Billy or old Billy, Mike’s obviously freaking out. His fiddling with the radio has doubled, and his foot is tapping a mile a minute.

“Hey, Mike, you get calls from El on that thing?” I know the answer, but if no one cuts the tension I’m gonna choke on it, and El just happens to be his favorite subject. His face lights up as he tells me all about the modifications he made to the radio tower, the call schedule, and when El’s plan to come over for Christmas. I zone out about 15 minutes through when he starts talking about their hangup routine.

I’m trying to think about the college re-applications Robin’s insisted I fill out, but my mind (and eyes for that matter) keep wandering back to him.

Billy Hargrove.

Who knows, maybe something will start changing around here.

  
**Billy**

I haven’t complained once since I woke up. I haven’t talked back. Haven’t yelled. Haven't provoked my father. And when he got in my face, spit flecking my cheeks as he waved hospital bills in the air, I sat there and took it. When he told me I would have to drive Maxine wherever she wanted, keep a constant eye on her, I sat there and took it. When she was alone with me for the first time and she screamed at me, her tiny fists hitting my chest again and again till she dissolved into sobs and blubbered accusations, I sat there and took it. I deserved it. I figured it was some sort of fucked up poetic justice, penance or some shit.

I would have driven that little shithead anywhere she wanted. I would have even taken her little friends too if any of them would dare to get in my car. I would have driven them anywhere in Hawkins, hell, anywhere in Indiana.

But no.

Their new hangout spot, the spot where I was going to have to stay and watch Maxine every fucking day just had to be the video store. The very same video store where the only other senior who didn’t make it to college was employed. The very same employe I was very much in love with.

Steve Harrington.

Yeah. Steve Harrington. King Steve. Pretentious, perfect, I probably spend 30 minutes a day doing my hair Steve. Stupid, flirty, I’m probably in love with Robin and also 100 percent straight Steve. Steve I beat the living shit out of. Steve I was completely, totally and entirely obsessed with.

I wasn’t sure when it happened exactly. Not the liking guys part, I had known that for a while, despite my numerous attempts to ignore, hide, and destroy that part of myself. It was the being in love with him that just made zero fucking sense.

The whole time in Hawkins he had never shown any interest in me whatsoever. We could have never crossed paths, I could have left it at brushing shoulders in the locker room and on our way to beer kegs at various parties.

But I didn’t. I couldn't.

The first day I saw him, talking to Nancy Wheeler, his eyes full of love, my first, irrational, stupid thought was;

_I want that to be me._

And it was downhill from there. Everything I noticed about him drew me in more and more. The way he walked like he owned the fucking place. The way he looked at you like he knew everything about you. The way his jeans fit him just like that. I spent a lot of time picking out my own clothes, but fuck, I never truly knew the power of jeans till I saw them on Steve Harrington.

And for weeks, that how it was. Class to class. Staring at his hair in calculus, his smile in English, the small of his back when we changed in gym.

Jesus Christ.

It was unbearable. No matter how many girls I half-heartedly hooked up with, or how many times I tried to take care of the problem . . . on my own, nothing got him out of my head. And I tried. Believe me, I tried.

Something had to change or I was going to explode. So I dealt with it the only way I knew how. If I couldn’t be with him, I would be better than him. Shove him around. Give him shit. And if said harassment happened to take place over a shirtless game of basketball then fuck, I was fine with that. But then he broke up with Nancy. And he did the worst thing possible.

He gave me hope.

Or rather, I deluded myself into believing I had a chance with him. But I didn’t. And I couldn’t deal with that. So when I saw him at the Byers, I freaked. I didn’t know he was going to be there. I didn’t know he was going to talk to me like that- yeah it’s me, don't cream your jeans. I didn't know what to do or say. All I knew was that if I stopped hitting him I would kiss him. So I didn’t. And I didn’t stop hurting him after that. I hurt him, I hurt Max, Eleven, and the rest of her friends. I hurt everyone.

Everyone around me ended up hurt.

So really, I shouldn’t think about him. I shouldn't expect anything to change. I should just drive Maxine where she wants, watch her and her friends, and not let Steve interfere. But I’d be lying if I said that was possible.

  
**Steve**

  
My name is Steve Harrington, it is 4:32 on a Wednesday afternoon in December, and I am about to be murdered by Billy Hargrove.

Well, realistically, I am most likely not about to meet my untimely end in a video rental store, but from the way Billy is walking towards the shop, with his eyes fixed on me and his hands curled into fists, one could very easily infer he was coming in to kill me.

Billy’s been coming into the store every day since November now, and for a while, he was fine, better than fine. You barely noticed him. He silently would come in, silently watch Max, and silently leave. Every once and awhile I would catch him staring at me, but that was tolerable. As long as his rage, or whatever emotion he was feeling stayed contained within glares and once over, I was fine with it.

But then he started getting worse.

  
It was barely noticeable at first, but spending all day every day in an empty video shop with him and a bunch of kids, I ended up spending more time watching Billy than I would care to admit.

  
It started with little things. The way he pushed open the door or spoke to Max when it was time for them to go. And the little stares I used to catch him in turned into full-on glares. It started to feel like there wasn’t a single moment his eyes weren’t on me.

Then he started getting aggressive. Turning more and more into old Billy. Grabbing Max’s hand on the way out. Insisting they leave early. Snapping at Max and the other kids when they did anything to displease him. It seemed like the more time he spent in the store, the worse he got.

He became constantly on edge, ready to explode. And today, watching him stride down the parking lot, hair whipping in the freezing wind and his denim jackets blowing out behind him, it looks like he might just combust.

He’s almost at the door now, and I take stock of the kids. They're all huddled in the back, looking for the perfect movie to watch with El and Will on Christmas. Almost instinctively, I come out from behind the desk, putting myself between the kids and the oncoming storm that is Billy. The bell rings and as he enters all the kids look up.

“Billy, you said you weren’t coming in today.” Max is clearly more rattled by Billy than she typically is, and from the sight of him, I don’t blame her.

He laughs, and for a second everything is silent. Someone who didn’t know Billy might have thought he calmed down. Max glanced at me. We both knew better.

“You think I wanna be here?” The second he starts speaking, one thing is clear. Old Billy is back. From the curled lip to his pointing finger, he looks ready to attack.

“You think I love spending every fucking day here, watching you and your shitbird friends? No, no, NO, Maxine. But I do. Every single day. And are you fucking grateful? No. Why would you be.” He’s grinning, but his eyes are scary. I have no idea what to do.

“You’re going to yell at me?” Max is standing now, indignant.

“You don’t get to yell at me. How many people in this room in this room have you tried to kill, Billy? How many? You knocked me and Mike unconscious. You tried to run us down. You nearly choked El to death!”

“And Steve! Don’t forget about what you did to Steve!” Dustin pipes up from behind Max.

Shit.

Billy slowly turns to face me and I'm trapped between him and the desk counter. “Harrington. How could I ever forget about you, Harrington.” He chuckles, which turn into a full laugh, and instantly I can smell the alcohol on his breath. Shit. This is bad. This is really bad.

“You got a problem with me, Hargrove?” It’s meant to come out intimidating, but my voice catches a bit. Last time I saw him like this he was trying to single-handedly wipe out the population of Hawkins.

“Yeah, maybe I do. What the fuck are you..” He draws out the o, leaning his arm on the counter behind me so I’m even more trapped than before. “.. gonna do about it?”

Shit.

I can see the kids watching awkwardly from the side, tense with fear. I know that whatever happens next, I can't end up getting my ass kicked in front of my kids. I can at least pretend to be brave in front of them, but it's kinda hard to think when Billy is inches away from my face.

“How about instead of doing this in front of the kids, you and I take a trip to the back room where you can address your…. grievances”

“Really, Harrington? That desperate to get your ass kicked again?” He chuckles again, and for a second I think he's gonna deck me right here, but he doesn’t. Instead, he flicks a cigarette butt to the floor and turns to Max.

“You. When I finish up my conversation with our good friend Steve here, we leave. Ok?” She barely nods before Billy walks to the backroom, hip checking me on his way there. I walk into the storeroom backward, keeping an eye on the kids till the last second. I only turn back around once I’m in the storeroom. It’s about ten degrees cooler than the rest of the store, and every wall but one is filled with stacks of VHS. And there on the only bare wall is Billy, flicking his lighter open and closed like it's the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey. Asshole.” He glances up and then looks back down at his lighter.

“I’m not an idiot, and neither are those kids. You really think they can’t tell when you’re off your ass?” He’s not even looking at me, and I get angrier.

“Was it not enough to almost kill everyone at Starcourt? Now you’re just gonna drive around drunk until you crash hard enough to kill both of you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His voice is deep and gravely when he responds. “You don’t understand the half of it, Harrington”.

“Yeah? Well, let's see what I do understand. You moved here last year. You were an asshole to Max, and tried to run over the rest of the party.”

“Shut up.”

“What, do I understand too much for you? What happened after that? Oh yeah, you tried to fucking kill me.” The more I said, the longer I got and the closer I got to Billy.  
“Yeah, you shattered a plate over my head and broke my nose. And that was just in one school year.”

“I am warning you. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Billy’s a scary, quiet kind of angry that normal would terrify me but now just makes me yell louder.

“And do I need to remind you of July? Or do you still think about it? Think about how you killed all those innocent people? Heather, Tom, Adam, who else? Do you think about how you crashed your car into mine, trying to kill your little sister?” I’m only a foot away from him now, and he still won’t look up, but I see his breathing get the tiniest bit faster.

“That wasn’t me. You know that wasn’t me, it was that thing.” He’s stopped playing with the lighter, and I take another step towards him.

“Yeah, and normal you is so perfect, right? So perfect that you can’t stay sober long enough to drive your kid sister to the fucking video rental store?”

He’s still not looking at me.

“I know you like to put on this whole act, pretend like you’ve changed, but you haven't. You’re still the same. And maybe the girls think you’re cute, or your parents think you’ve changed, but everyone else still knows the truth.” I’m desperate for a reaction, and I’m still not getting one.

I step even closer to him than before, and with every word, I shove him into the concrete wall with the palm of my hand.

“You.” Shove. “Aren’t.” Shove. “Shit.”

And before I can shove him again, BAM. He lands a clean punch across my no jaw. Another punch, this time straight to my nose, which sends me staggering backwards. One, two, three punches in a row until my balance is lost. I feel the cool of the concrete before he grabs me by the shirt, pulling me up so we’re face to face.

His eyes are so cold, but the rest of him is hot, and currently pressed against me as he holds me up. I know I’m not going to win any physical contests, so I try to take advantage of our proximity to speak. I dip into him, close enough to him to whisper directly into his ear.

“Fuck. You.” I spit the last word, and for a second he’s still. Then, like a coiled spring, he explodes.

Both his hands are on either side of my shoulders, pushing me back then turning me around till I’m pinned against the open wall and he’s looming above me, radiating heat and booze breath and hate. I see the glint in his eyes and realize for the first time what a mistake I’ve made. I’m alone with Billy. I’m alone with Billy and he’s going to kill me.

For a terrifying second he stands there, arched over me, pinning me to the wall with his strong arms, the arms he could kill with, and I think I’m going to die.

Billy draws out a tiny, raspy, chuckle as he moves on of his arms to the side. He’s going to kill me.

He’s going to knock me out, he's going to kill the kids.

He dips his head down, then he tenses his whole body. The spring is loaded, the gun is cocked, the dynamite is ready to explode.

I try to tense my body two, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of punches as he gets closer, ready to punch, to hurt, to kill and he’s so close and I’m so trapped and he’s going to kill me, I’m sure of it, I can see it in his eyes and feel it in the tiny shake of his hands. He gets closer.

I squeeze my hands into fists.

He gets closer.

I swallow as much fear as I can.

He gets closer.

I close my eyes, preparing for the worst, for the inevitable, for Billy Hargrove to kill me.

And then he kisses me.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully, that was good? this was my first time writing this fandom at all, and if you have any questions, criticisms, or suggestions pLease feel free to leave a comment. i'm aiming for the next chapter in about a week. 
> 
> xx - F.


End file.
